Child of the Brave
by MistyWing
Summary: After The Lion War, Ivalice was consumed by the venom of deceit. Honor perished as the new king destroyed the truth. Now, one boy puts everything on the line to honor his predecessors and his name.
1. Prelude

**Child of the Brave**  
_Prelude_

She walked as if all the evil in Ivalice weighed her down as the rain drizzled over her drenched cloak. The worn soles of her shoes became permeable to the wetness in the gravel, making them uncomfortable to walk in. Worst of all, her own qualms rubbed her thin.

Her movements resembled fidgets which expelled her nervousness in the quickest manner. Through the rain, one could still notice how she checked and drew up the bundle in her arms ever so tenderly. Though the weather was grim and her own whimpering could be heard under the storm, the child she carried under the blanket gave her a toothless grin. He had been born in a world contaminated with deceit, violence, and war, yet still he managed to smile at his mother with a light of hope and better beginnings. Even though he was only four months old, she was proud of him for he did not cry once since she parted from the prison that those who were evil confined her in. No amount of plush cushions, fine wine, or lovely dresses could be called treasures when the people who gave her these things only wanted to woo her onto the wrong side. Who could call the mansion an asylum when all those who lived in it could not be trusted and only hinted to destroying her family further and further?

No matter what the circumstance, she could not let her child be raised amongst them. He needed to be with people, who could teach him to love, cherish, and honor. She was swollen with pride. She could already see that he could uphold the family name and embrace the family code and honor; maybe better than any of her brothers.

She stopped before the wooden door of a church. She half stumbled and half ran to the altar in the far side of the hall just as she got through the doors.

"Father Samuel!" She cried as she fell to her knees. The wooden boards that made up the floor bruised her knees, but she bit back any pain from the fall because nothing could be more painful than what she was about to do.

"Yes, Child." A man in his forties, rushed out from the doorway behind the altar.

"I have sinned!"

The priest's horrified eyes flickered frantically over her wet face and then over at the bundle in her arms, which seemed more than aware of its mother's wailings. Little fists reached out from the blanket and started making annoyed gestures. She, who held it, could only press her wet face to its soft cheek in comfort.

"It is not your fault," Sam spoke knowingly. Then, he touched her bowed head placidly. The gesture soothed her just enough to calm the worrying baby. The baby suddenly looked interested when he peered at the arm touching his holder. "What a beautiful gift. May I?" The priest extended his free arm toward her child, a soft smile taking over his face.

Mystified, she let him touch her baby's face. He was the only one she could trust because those who she did trust were either fighting or gone from the world. She knew how to trust him because he was the only holy man in Ivalice, who spurned all the beliefs of the Glabados Church. In one of their private conversations, he had been the one to reveal to her the evil the Church was plotting and _her_ purpose in its plot. However, he could not help her from the machinations of the sinful Church because he was the one who had to preserve the faith and the truth. Exposure of his distrust to the Church would only fling him into the messy crime of treachery, like her brother. Neither he nor she was ready to give up on Ivalice; it was decided that no one could sacrifice that much for just her. Even before coming to this conclusion, she had run out of tears to shed for her brothers, her child, and her self. She was ready to sacrifice her life, just like her brother, for justice.

Sam chuckled, bringing her back to her mind-numbing reality. Now, she noticed that his hand was wet from the spit bubbles the child was forming to entertain the new company.

"He's wonderful. Pray tell you do know his father's name."

She shook her head angrily. "He was a shrine knight."

With that statement, Sam hung his head low. "I see. Sometimes, hunger and lust make men do wicked things. Did your brother ever know?"

"No! It happened before Vormav stole me away from Riovanes Castle… It was when—when…" She gulped and her breathing quickened. "At Riovanes…" The words died on her lips.

Sam tried to comfort her, sweeping her wet bangs from her eyes. "At Riovanes Castle, on Izlude's orders, the Nanten Knights imprisoned me. Then a shrine knight, he…None of the Nanten knights knew he… They didn't care he…" She clutched his hand suddenly, not wanting to finish.

Sam seemed to understand for he clasped her hand with just as much strength. He took the baby with his other hand and held it with care "You need not say, anymore. You surely have upheld your father's honor, Child. You are brave like him."

"Please, take care of Aster while I am gone." Then, her fingers slipped from his grasp and she stood to leave.

"I do not know what kind of evil lives inside me that the Church wants, but do not let any thing evil leak into my son's heart. I beg…" She was not addressing Sam anymore. She was murmuring feverishly to her self, but Sam heard her loud and clear.

"Your son is not a sin. It is my instinct showing me that I have seen only the goodness of his mother's heart having touched his."

_End Prelude_


	2. Red Chocobo by the Gate

**Child of the Brave**

_1. Red Chocobo by the Gate_

Young Aster was five and full of spirit. Not knowing his origins did not spoil his character at all. If anything, his ambiguous beginning made him stronger. His contagious integrity shown through his liveliness construed from the heavy bond of his friendship with two other children his age. Their names were Eliza and Joseph.

Aster spent most of his time with the two, mastering sports and playing games. He was the one who came up with the reenactment of Father Samuel's short pieces on The Lion War. Aster would play the role of Ramza Beoulve. Eliza would play Agrias Oaks and Joseph would play Cidolfas Orlandu. To make it more realistic, the children sported wooden swords and made up catch phrases.

"Be gone Evil Altima or I, Ramza, will… make you be gone!" Aster had shouted in the churchyard.

Eliza let out an upset squeal. "That's not what Ramza would say! Try again!"

"Alright." Aster paused for emphasis. Then, in as deep a voice he could muster with his small throat he gave a short bellow, "I am Ramza and let it be known that I destroyed Altima and brought peace to Ival—"

Aster suddenly screamed as someone behind him took him off his feet and covered his mouth violently.

"Never, speak of the name so loudly! Never!" Father Samuel whispered fiercely, glaring at the boy. Never did Father Samuel treat him so roughly. And so, Aster never played that game again.

Instead, that day, just as the sun was sinking behind the mountains, when he saw the red Chocobo at the gate, he was only playing "Heroes and Bandits." He was cutting the air with his wooden toy sword that was only the length of a full grown man's hand, as Eliza and Joseph chased him through town. The children stopped short in front of the church gate, where the red Chocobo stood, watching them. It was tied to one of the wooden posts that maintained the gate. It stayed put while its master was away.

"Oh wow. We have a visitor!" Aster gasped before catching himself. "I want to go see who it is!"

Pouts formed on Eliza and Joseph's faces. "But we're not done playing," they whined in unison.

Aster waved them away as he scampered up to the entrance. "Let's play tomorrow! I'm going home!" He stuffed the toy that was in his hand into the back of his pants, ignoring the scraping pain that it inflicted on his buttocks.

When his friends were out of sight, he started prowling around the entryway. Inside the church, Father Samuel had his back to him as he spoke in a whisper to a man by the altar. Since the sun was almost gone, the coming night engulfed the hall in patches of shadows. Aster could not see the man's face behind Father Sam's shielding figure, so he thought he could get a closer look if he snuck up on them.

Making his breath shallow, he crossed the floor on his hands and knees. Once he reached a table with a table cloth covering its legs, he ducked under it for safety of being spotted. For a moment, he waited, straining his ears to hear even just a piece of their conversation. He received nothing.

He made a huffing noise in irritation. Thinking he was not close enough still, Aster crawled out of his hiding place with his head bowed. Without looking up, he slammed into something hard and rolled back into hiding. His toy slipped from his pants, so he had to reach out and grab it before it got too far.

"Aster."

The sound of Father Samuel's voice completely halted the boy's movements. Gathering his wits, he numbly crawled back out. This time more slowly, his forehead made contact with not Father Samuel's legs, but the stranger's.

"Apologize, Aster."

Aster stood up hastily, feeling embarrassed. "Sorry I slammed into you, Mister. I did not know you were there."

The priest shook his head, but Aster could tell he was not wholeheartedly angry, for his eyes gleamed amusedly.

"That's quite alright," the stranger said gently.

Aster finally looked up at him and only saw a warm, young face staring back at him. The stranger was giving him a convivial smile, exciting the boy. Without thinking, Aster put out his arm, holding the toy to this guest. The man reached out and took the wooden sword from his little hand.

"What is it? A cross?"

"It's a sword! I made it!" Aster was a bit miffed even though he had only just met this stranger and still did not know his name. He had never been insulted by anyone the way this man had insulted him.

"It is!" He pronounced proudly, pining over the boy's good side. "You are a fine craftsman and this is a fine craftwork."

Aster puffed up his chest. Staring straight into the dark face hidden in a shadow he said, "It's yours. It will protect you in battles if you know how to use it."

"Thank you, Young Aster. I shall cherish it forever." With that said, the man placed the item under the breast pocket of his traveling cloak.

Seeing the man leave, made Aster's spirit plummet to his stomach. He wanted to go with him and ride his own chocobo.

_End Chapter 1_


	3. Mysterious Powers in the Church

**Child of the Brave**  
_2. Mysterious Powers in the Church_

Standing on the hilltop, and gazing up at the stars was a grand hobby. Looking up, one could not see anything thing below or above. The latter was just an immense endless universe far from reach in the whole scope of things. Every time Aster stood on that particular spot, he would let the earth under him drop away and his mind would wander to the blinking, burning balls of gas, dotting the velvet blanket sky. Unlike astronomers, for he was not one, he only found peace in the natural rather than peace in speculation. Watching stars was an activity for this sixteen year old, just like playing games at five was the same about a decade ago.

Then, one strange night during his watch, the air suddenly became copious, sweltering, and ravenous. Aster blinked in surprise, bringing himself back to his real world in a sting of wariness. He rose to his feet, pulling a small shinny dagger out of the back of his boot. This action was not part of his usual ritual.

There was rustling in the woods behind him and he tensed substantially. The blade twirled as he stood, listening intently at the angry footsteps disturbing the fallen leaves and branches of Araguay Woods. A familiar figure appeared from the shadows of a great oak.

"Aster," she panted, running into his arms.

The blade returned to his boot, as he waited for her to catch her breath. He was trying to help by steadying her arms.

"Aster, where have you been?" Eliza screamed, suddenly rubbing her tear-streaked face into Aster's dried sleeve.

Aster's eyes widened. He could feel his ears twitching with a potent sense of zeal. The wind carried the cries to him. "Water! Water! More water down here!"

"The Church is burning, Aster! We need your help!"

Like lightning, Aster swept passed the girl and pursued his fears. He could hear Eliza running behind him. Her pace was dragging him. He could feel it. Before he could stop and think of the consequence, he balked and swung around to urge his friend to keep up, but she blindly slammed into him and toppled him over.

Quick to recover, Aster rushed to help her up.

"Aster, I twisted my ankle," she cried as he cradled her head.

"Shhh… You'll be alright… Now, tell me where is Joseph?"

She shook her head, a new wave of tears coming. "I don't know. We were fighting the King's men one minute and the next everything went ablaze! Joseph and I were separated and I just came running to get you! When I was leaving, most of the men were busy putting out the fire… But they were so strong."

"Alright, alright," Aster whispered, gathering her light form into his arms. "We got to get you some place safe. Where are the other women and children hiding?"

"School House," she murmured, her arms circling his neck.

"You're going to stay with them," Aster urged, jogging out of the trees and entering the town. All the while the air grew denser and worse.

"No! I want to fight by Joseph and your side!" She wriggled in his arms.

Aster held her firmly. "Right now, I don't even know where Joseph is!" He glared at her. "I don't want to lose you, too!" He marched into the school house and set her on the bench. The headmistress came forward and tended to Eliza's ailments immediately.

Aster was turning to leave, but Eliza's angry voice stopped him. "Don't you die Aster! You better come back alive and bring Joseph with you or I will never forgive you!"

Aster brushed her bangs away from her brow and kissed her on the temple. "I need both my shadows to survive, so don't worry. I'll bring Joseph back. You just stay put until I or Joseph come back to you."

Eliza placed her small hands on his shoulders and shoved him away. "We are not your shadows, you annoying, arrogant buffoon."

Aster gave her a lopsided grin before taking off into the blazing night. As he ran, he could see the church being swarmed by orange flames. The fire swayed and licked quickly at the outside of the church walls made of petrified wood. The blood in his body turned to ice as he realized that Father Samuel could still be inside.

Someone squeezed Aster's shoulder, startling the youth for just the briefest moment.

"Aster, you're alive! We could not find you and we thought you were still in there."

"Thank God _you_ are alive, Joseph." Aster gripped his friend's shoulders as tears of relief stung the corners of his eyes. "Eliza and I are so worried… Where is Father Sam?"

Joseph's eyes fell to the floor. "No one knows… The King's men are long gone, but nobody ever saw Samuel come out of the flames. Aster, don't lose hope! Father Samuel might have gotten out safely. You don't know—Aster!"

Aster broke away from his friend abruptly and ran. He stole a soaked blanket from a man running around the edge of the flames, trying valiantly to put out the fire.

Aster received a fury of yells from him and other voices.

"Come back here with that, Boy!"

"Aster, it's not safe!"

"Everything worth anything has been salvaged!"

"Don't kill yourself, Aster!"

"You'll make roast beef out of yourself!"

"Aster!"

"Somebody stop him, please!"

Aster flew through the flames that licked the grass of the churchyard. The fire was tall and looming, unnaturally strong. Fires like these could only be caused by powerful wizards. Aster had yet, to meet such beings with the kind of detrimental capabilities that surrounded him.

Winking in the bright glare, Aster found the entrance. Without thinking he stormed in.

"Father Samuel," Aster coughed. "Father, are you here?" He marched blindly about, unable to recognize any torched thing around him. "Please, answer me if you are here!"

Aster choked on the smoke. He felt like a small child lost in a maze. There was no way out. Aster's steps became heavy and feeble in his search. He only fully realized where he was after he felt his mangled boot land on something hard and thick. He looked at it blurrily, unsure of what to think. They were Father Samuel's writings on The Lion War all packed in a rough leather binding. Aster was too surprised to say anything. He had not seen the pieces since he was five when Father Samuel caught him acting them out. He was severely chastised for days after the event, having what he did wrong explained thoroughly and what he should never do again for meaningless reasons portrayed. Those reasons still seemed unfair as of now, he realized, staring dumbfounded at the tattered book. The truth had a right to settle in Ivalice.

"Aster."

Aster jumped a bit. He knew the voice did not belong to Father Samuel.

"Pick it up, Aster."

This time, Aster turned around and saw the hooded figure standing by the flames. The stranger had his back turned to him, but he held his arms out as if warding off the flames.

Aster stared at him for a while and was suddenly startled when he turned to him speedily. Without warning, the stranger threw a Water Ball in his direction. He was a ninja, Aster thought in wonder. A very bad one because he missed Aster completely. The Water Ball landed at Aster's feet, where a hungry flame started eating away at the wood and the soles of his boots. The book was now slightly wet from the elemental attack, but Aster was still too awestruck to move.

"What are you waiting for, Aster? The damage has already been done!" The stranger shouted at him.

Aster clumsily grabbed the book and studied it. The cover was singed on parts of the edges. Miniature holes now embellished almost all the pages.

"Aster, follow me."

Aster followed him, trying hard to keep up with the man.

"Hurry along," he pressed, turning to Aster with a fiery gaze.

The man did not hesitate once. He led his younger, slower companion out through an opening in the wall of Father Samuel's study.

Aster hesitated at leaving, looking behind him for signs of Father Sam.

"Father Samuel is fine. I had my people get him out in the nick of time. Now, for the umpteenth time get out Aster!" He waited impatiently, gesturing fiercely for him to move more quickly.

Aster collapsed onto the grass that was, as of then, still untouched.

The man that saved him was now hovering next to him on one knee.

"Up, up, up. We have to keep going!"

_End Chapter 2_

**AN: I meant to put this note up on the first chapter, but that never happened for some reason… Anyway, I hope you like it so far. When I first mapped this story out it was messy and I was unsure of myself. Aster didn't have a name yet and was just labeled the "Boy Hero" years ago. Ha! Then, the story was lost and forgotten until a couple of years flew by. This summer I played the game again and my love for the Zodiac Brave Story revived. The "Boy Hero" became Aster and words started appearing on the pages again. I think, this time around I'm going to finish this, and I hope some of you might review some more in encouragement and support. See you next chapter and thanks for reading!**

**8/11/05**


	4. Unsung Heroes of The Lion War

**Child of the Brave**  
_3. Unsung Heroes of The Lion War_

"Get up Aster! Hurry up!"

Aster picked himself up grumpily. "If you'd help some more, I wouldn't be half dead right now. I demand to know who you are!"

"Aster…" There seemed to be a flash of sympathy in the stranger's bright eyes. He pulled down his hood revealing a bearded face, which seemed to be torn between vigor and fatigue. His face was clear of the usual signs of age, but still something in his eyes told a different story. "I will tell you if you follow me."

"I don't even know you, why would I be so stupid enough to follow you? For all I know, you could be one of the King's men."

"It would be wise if you take my advice. Let us finish this conversation inside. As we speak, our enemies may be lurking about. Do you really want them to catch us?" The stranger held out his hand like a token of trust. "Please, Aster. You know I'm not going to leave you behind. If anything, I will have to stay with you when Ivalice's army presents itself to us."

"Where are we going?"

"Into the heart of Araguay. That is where everyone is waiting for us."

The stranger took the lead again. He moved so fast just walking, Aster had to jog to keep up behind him. "Who is waiting for us?"

The man turned his face to him, a smile twitching behind his bushy, blonde beard. "My comrades. Judging by what Father Samuel says about you, you will be excited to meet them."

Aster huffed. He could barely see the man's outline a few meters away for the night already cloaked them in complete darkness. His eyes turned into suspicious slits. He had every right to be suspicious of this unbelievably amiable character. "Who are you?" Aster demanded.

The man paused in his trudging steps. He slowly turned around to face Aster. His hand was in his breast pocket and it held there for a moment. "I'm Sam's friend." His hand withdrew from his breast and he brandished a wooden cross. "I'm sure you remember me now, Young Aster." He beamed at him, his white teeth flashing in the dark.

"It's you!" Aster gasped in incredulity. Aster rushed to stand next to him.

"We can talk while we walk." His broad hands rested on Aster's slim shoulders.

"Who are you?" Aster asked again.

One hand still on Aster's shoulder as he led him through the dark he talked on. "Father Samuel has raised you well while I was away. Ever curious about what I've been doing all these years?"

"I would rather know your name first," the boy said bluntly.

"So much like your mother! Persistence at length. I'll tell you my name after you tell me what you know about the King of Ivalice and the writings of Father Samuel on The Lion War."

"What's there to know? The King is crooked in every aspect. He was not the true hero of Ivalice during the war."

"If anyone in Ivalice heard you now, you'd be burn at the stake," the stranger said with a grim shake of his head.

Aster frowned at him as he spoke. "That's why Father taught me never to speak of the true hero of Ivalice or deny the treacherous King's claims to being the hero of the war." Aster spat at mentioning the King.

"If you looked at it from Delita's point of view you would feel differently. I wish to show you both sides of the story. There are some things that Father Sam did not write about and he couldn't unless he knew me well like Delita does."

"You speak of the King as if you were brothers! Whose side are you on?"

"Why yours, Aster. You are right, I was once like a brother to your King, but in some point in my life things changed. Sometimes, something changes a man's mind and heart."

"Evil?" Aster asked suddenly fascinated with everything that was being spoken about. It was like one of Father Sam's stories.

"Evil… I feel, 'til this day, any evil in him was not why Delita turned against me. When we were young and going to the same academy, Delita and I were closer to each other, then I was to my own blood brothers. I suppose it might have stayed that way if men weren't evil enough to change Delita."

"You have to live through The Lion War to understand that much."

"Oh I lived through it alright. I was in it until the very end."

"That's why you're a master ninja!"

"I've mastered many jobs, but I feel that I am the best at being a squire since that is what I trained to be since the very beginning."

"You were first a squire and the King was your close friend who betrayed you. You fought in The Lion War until it ended. That sounds just like someone from Father's work."

The stranger nodded. "I am Ramza Beoulve."

Aster's jaw dropped. "Ramza is dead! You can't be him! He was killed in the war!"

"By what, Aster? By whom? Do you know?"

"Do you!"

Crunching footsteps alerted them. They twirled around and glared into the night behind them. A shadowy figure emerged from the shadows of the trees and came towards them. Aster's hand was immediately at his boot, but then a hand rested on his shoulder, reassuring him that it was alright. Aster's hand slipped and he stared back at the man who claimed to be the dead hero.

"Hey there Ramza… What was all the shouting about?" The shadowy figure came up to the two.

Close up, the man looked old, his beard grey with wisdom. He had a sword belted on and his boots looked too big for him. One wrinkled hand was on the hilt of his sword and the other was raised in a gesture of greeting.

"Back so soon, Orlandu? How is the good Father?"

Aster was blinking quickly, straining to see the old man in front of him.

"The priest is fine. The towns people are seeing to him right this minute."

"And Delita's men?"

"Long gone… I tried to trace their tracks, but it seemed they had people cover them up. They did a good job this time. It was like he didn't want anyone to know that he attacked the town."

"I think that was his goal; to burn the church, and then hide all evidence of his doing." Ramza sighed, sounding defeated.

"You're Cidolfas Orlandu! No way!" Aster shouted.

Orlandu blinked and for the first time acknowledged the boy standing next to Ramza. "And you must be the Great Aster that Ramza so fondly talks about," Orlandu smiled, running a hand through his gray curls. "You look just like your uncle when he was young."

"Please, Orlandu. Don't pleasure the boy in his heritage. He'll be shouting with glee even before we reach camp and we need to keep a low profile."

"Oh, but he's got more Beoulve fairness. Probably from his mother more than his father," Orlandu spoke, nodding his head thoughtfully. "The blonde hair, the light golden tan… Definitely takes after his mother…"

"I'm related to a Beoulve! Who was my mother?" Aster whispered urgently.

Ramza rolled his eyes in the dark. "Old Friend, this has to stop."

"It does not matter. We will be there soon, Ramza," Orlandu expelled, smiling from ear to ear.

They were so deep in their conversation; Aster had not even noticed that he almost jogged his whole way to keep up with the two men. They moved so quickly, Aster was too out of breath to talk by the time they broke through the heavily wooded area. Now, they were in a circle sparse of trees. In this circle, there were tents pitched up, but there was no camp fire. It might have meant that everyone was asleep or it could be that everyone was away.

At the sound of the footsteps, someone emerged from one of the tents.

"Who goes there?" Demanded a voice.

"Hey, Tensberger. It is only us."

Tensberger lowered his sword and gave a long sigh. "Ramza! What took you so long?"

"Where are Lavian and Alicia? I thought I told them to keep watch as well."

Tensberger shook his head. "They went right after Agrias followed Orlandu."

"Who is right now with Aster's friends," Orlandu finished.

"The Agrias Oaks!" Aster exclaimed.

"Aster," Ramza spoke in a warning tone. "Let the adults speak."

Aster crossed his arms and tapped his foot impatiently. He hated being treated like a child. Father Samuel used to treat him the same way when he could not keep his mouth shut when the priest was talking to another 'adult.'

"—I guess Beowulf and Reis are still watching over the northern parts of the woods. Am I right?"

"Yes. And Rafa and Malak are watching the eastern parts, while Meliadoul is covering the western parts. None of them have gotten back, yet. It's a wonder you came back so soon. Are you sure you weren't being followed?"

Ramza frowned at this. "Tensberger, do I look like one to be so incautious? Of course I made sure we weren't being followed! And the others haven't gotten back yet because Delita's men probably haven't reached around their bend yet."

"Well, excuse me." Tensberger spoke in an annoyed tone. "It's not my fault I want to be extra careful about these things. I never thought you were one to throw precaution out the window. You did leave charge to me when you left a few hours ago."

Ramza laughed heartily, a deep chuckle rising from his throat. "You couldn't even keep Lavian and Alicia in line. Very well charged, Tens."

"Everyone is either here or near except Mustadio," Aster burst out. "You haven't mentioned Mustadio at all! Is he…"

Ramza ruffled the boy's hair. "Mustadio is our spy. He's somewhere near the castle. He's the one who tipped us off on the burning of the church. He's safe, don't worry about him."

"How would you know?" Tensberger asked loudly. "It's not like you're spying, Ramza."

"You're name was never in the writings," Aster murmured, eyes directed at Tensberger.

"What! I've known Ramza since the cradle! How could I be left out? I'm his right-hand man. We went to school together!" Tensberger was outraged as he rambled on.

"What's all the hullabaloo about?" Asked a gentle female figure, emerging from the tent Tensberger was in. "You're voices will bring the whole Ivalice army to us if you keep it up, especially you Tens. You're the loudest."

She wrapped a red shawl around her slim figure and stepped closer to the group.

"Aster," Ramza spoke to the young man beside him. Suddenly, the woman froze in mid step and glanced over at the young man beside Ramza. "Is it really him, Brother Ramza?"

"Yes, Alma. And by the looks of him, it will mean that sixteen years have passed," Ramza spoke gently to his sister. "It's so hard to believe that I have watched over him for sixteen years. I guess time just flies for us."

Alma giggled quietly, now standing in front of Aster.

"You people have been around for sixteen years? Not dead! My own mother is not dead. You never came to see me?" Aster's pain was directed towards his mother.

"Oh, Aster…" Alma took his face in between her hands. "How I wanted to watch you grow, but circumstances wouldn't allow it."

Aster pulled away from her furiously. "You left me alone." He accused her.

"But you were happy, Aster. If only you knew what would have happened if we brought you with us," Ramza pleaded.

"You hovered around for sixteen years unsighted!" He pointed a reproving finger at his uncle, ignoring his plea. "I only saw you once in my life!"

"Aster," Ramza's face was as stern as Father Samuel's. "You have to listen to your mother. Let her explain her actions." Alma was now whimpering into her palms, tears springing out of her closed eyelids.

"I don't need to. I won't!" Aster ran off in the direction that they had come from.

"Aster, stay put! There is no place for you to go to now! Come back!"

"Ramza!"

Ramza stopped shouting and spun around on his quick feet, squinting into the dark night. Lavian appeared before him, panting. "Meliadoul… She… West side… knights… Wizards… Delita's… Alicia…"

Ramza gripped her shoulders.

Lavian tried again to articulate. "Meliadoul was keeping watch on the western parts when Alicia and I found her. We spotted the troops heading west. They failed to cover some of their tracks, so I have Alicia watching over them for now. Meliadoul went after the troops."

"Good she has the moonlight to hide her." Ramza turned to Tensberger. "I think I still see Aster. Go after him, Tens."

Tensberger stepped forward. "Fine, I'll volunteer to baby-sit."

Alma's hand gripped his shoulder. "It's alright, Brother. I'll go after him."

Ramza stared at her for just a second and nodded. "Alright, good luck." Then, he and Orlandu followed Lavian eastward.

"Tensberger keep watch…" Ramza's command faded into the night.

_End Chapter 3_


	5. Mother and Son's Venue

**Child of the Brave**  
_4. Mother and Son's Venue_

Aster ran, quickly and lightly across the forest floor, dodging enormous trees and leaping over wild roots.

"Aster!" Alma's cry broke in the cutting wind.

Aster did not stop. He turned his head one way and out of the corner of his vision he caught her silhouette close behind him. How did they move so quickly? He was younger and the fastest sprinter at home and here he was almost being caught by his small mother in a dress even unfit for jogging.

"Aster, wait!" She panted.

Alma's feet caught in something and she screamed, falling to the floor.

Aster turned around and saw her sprawled on the floor. He ran back to her, genuinely worried. "Are you alright?" He bent down to help her up. He looked at her face and found her dark eyes glittering in the night. One hand gripped the arm he used to help her up. He lifted her up and onto her feet.

"Oh, Aster, oh Aster!" She burst into a round of new tears. "I've missed you so much!" She wailed, clutching onto his arm.

Hesitantly, Aster placed an arm around her shoulders. "There, there," he tried to sooth. He started taking her back to camp. She hid her face in her hands as she wept. Aster was worried that she had truly hurt herself because she staggered about, needing his support the entire way.

Tensberger rushed out to them when he watched them emerge from the thick trees. "That was quick. What convinced you to come back?" Tensberger was leaning forward, hands on his hips as he phrased the question for Aster and Alma.

"I wasn't convinced. I was afraid when Alma fell," Aster answered.

Alma's hand gripped Aster's elbow in a vise grip. Her other hand pulled him by the shirt. Aster was so surprised at the woman. He never imagined she could be as strong and forceful as she was calm and gentle. She pulled him into a tent and Tensberger followed them in the dark. He was still unaccustomed to walking and seeing in the dark as all human beings were. He wondered if Alma and Tensberger saw what he saw; nothing.

"I am your mother. You will listen to me, understand?"

"That's going to work—Alma, he doesn't even know you. We've been gone for sixteen years!" Tensberger exclaimed.

"I don't care. My son will listen to me as long as I have him here--" Alma's voice broke at the end of the sentence "--Then, he can do whatever he so pleases, runaway even.

But you must hear me out or I shall never rest in peace." Alma turned to Aster, making contact with his hand.

Aster felt her tugging him to a corner of the tent. She pushed him onto the floor, expecting him to protest or something. His hands remained in hers and she did not loosen the grip.

"Leave us, Tensberger… Please…"

There was the noise as the flap of the tent went up and came back down.

Immediately, when Aster noticed that not even a speck of light came through the opening he asked, "Why must we sit in the dark? Why is it that Ramza situated all of you in an area where not even a streak of moonlight may surface through the trees? Why?"

"We must remain in hiding. It's the only way we can surprise our enemy? You're used to it. Ramza says you like to be in the dark sometime. You can still see a little."

"I feel uncomfortable talking about Ramza," Aster sniffed, "I don't like people sneaking around, spying on me."

"He watched over you because he cared. He wanted to make sure nothing happened to you. It was a way to keep you safe."

"Why does he have to poke around in the dark? Why do all of you have to poke around in the dark?" Aster asked, angrily.

"What would happen to us if the King caught us?" Alma countered, staring at the floor. "Would we ever be able to reunite with you?"

Aster let out a heavy sigh, feeling defeated. "It's not fair that I had to grow up without a mother or a father, while everyone else had there's."

Her hand touched his face. "I know. When your grandfather died I felt the same way. Yet, after his death I was able to pick up the pieces of my life and move on. You know, Aster, we were always worried about you."

"I know."

"There were spies in your hometown and they probably informed the king of Father Samuel's doings or worse…"

Aster blinked at her in surprise. "What's worse?"

"They might have found out about you! Don't you see? This was why Ramza was so overprotective of you!"

"So the King didn't burn the church because of Father Samuel's writings that could have damaged the King's reputation, but because he found out I was a son of a Beoulve?"

"We don't know that, yet. Maybe Mustadio has more information around that, but… Even I don't know much about that. When Ramza comes back, he will tell you more. I only want to tell you when we came to be again."

"You are being," Aster said very slowly.

Alma shook her head. "You talk about fairness, Aster. Let me speak first."

Aster made a noise, but Alma blatantly ignored him by charging on. "When I left you with Father Samuel, Ajora was already inside me. It would have been dangerous if you stayed with me, so I had to bring you to the haven of Father Samuel's. I knew he was a benevolent man and one of the last men in Ivalice I could trust, so I placed upon him my precious burden that was you. After I left you with him, I felt everyday was like a dream to me. I only had bits and pieces of my memories with each passing day to carry on with. I came to the conclusion that the evil Ajora was growing inside me and taking over. Then, I remembered nothing more.

When next I woke, I was on an airship helping my brother fight the Bloody Angel, Altima. We defeated her with a sacrifice. Murond Death City was the burial grounds of St. Ajora and we joined him there."

Aster shook his head like a child unable to accept anything his mother was feeding him. He felt sick to his stomach and if anyone could see him in the dark, his skin paled to a light green around the cheeks. His hands grew sweaty and he felt his lips trembling as words escaped them. "You are flesh. I can feel you. You are not…"

Alma rose to her feet and pulled Aster up with her. "There was another reason why we couldn't be with you all these years. Come with me, Aster, and I'll show you."

Gloomily they trudged deeper into the dark forest until they reached a clearing where the tops of the trees did not completely hide the moon. Moonlight shimmered to the floor in beams of different lengths and widths. Alma told Aster to wait at the edge of the clearing as she walked through the light. Her image glimmered as the lights passed around her when Aster watched, fear clinging to him like a second skin. She finally stopped in the middle of the largest shaft of moonlight that was like a spiritual column that reached the sky. She stood there and did not move as the light touched every inch of her body.

"Now come, Aster." Her voice carried in the chilly breeze that brushed passed Aster. He was afraid and found himself shaking his head disbelievingly.

"Aster, please come and try to hold your mother." Her shaky voice drew him to her. He never knew why he did it. It might have been an enchantment or the sound of her voice that transpired anguish and worry. However, he never figured out the reason why he moved toward the woman he reproached just moments ago.

With every step he took toward her a thought came to mind. This was why Ramza came sundown ten years ago. This was why Ramza couldn't help him in the fire. This was why they crept in the dark. This was why they hid from the King all this time.

A hand reached out slowly to touch Alma's face. This was why Alma sat with me in the dark and held me. This was why they were so much quicker than me. This was why they could never live with me. This was why they hid from me all these years.

His hand passed her ear and the flying hair. He felt only the cold air that was his mother as hot tears coursed his face.

She was a ghost and so were the rest. She was an apparition that could not live in the light and only could hover forever in the dark. Have you ever seen the dead? They are so very different.


	6. King's AgentsLargonian Angels

**Child of the Brave**  
_5. King's Agents/Largonian Angels _

"Ramza!" Aster greeted him enthusiastically as the elder traipsed into the tent that was Alma's. His back was hunched with weariness, but still his appearance changed at the sound of Aster's voice.

"So, you decided to stay have you? I see you're still here."

Aster looked up and stared at the stain on the upper portion of the tent. "I know during the day I will be of much help, so I have opted to stay."

"Oh yeah? How so? A child like you would only be a burden."

"You walk like an old man even though you're a ghost, so how could a young, unrestrained fighter like me be a burden?" Aster snapped angrily.

"Easy there, Boy. Don't get your bowstrings in a knot. I was only fooling."

Silence took over and Ramza grew troubled.

"Aster…" Alma laughed from her resting place. "Men like your uncle cannot roughen up all together just because of war. A sense of humor scratches them every morning."

Aster shrugged. "I wasn't really angry."

"I'm tired of fighting, Aster. I'm not trying to be disrespectful."

"I understand," Aster murmured, nodding his head.

Silence took over again.

"So how does a ghost feel tired?" Aster asked out of curiosity.

"I'm dead, yet alive. I hide even when I'm dead! What do you think, Aster?"

"I think that's a horrible life."

"What life?" Ramza asked bitterly. "All I can do as a ghost is wander in the night, helplessly wondering if we will ever rest easily."

"We have so much to live for, but life is gone for us," Alma added sadly.

"But at night," Aster stood, glancing back and forth at his mother and uncle as he spoke, "You are not hopeless. I've seen you fight!"

"You are the only thing worth living for, Aster," Alma whispered, lowering her head. "But we cannot even have that."

"We continue to fight for justice because it is our job, whether we are dead or alive. We want you and your generation to live with peace," Ramza added.

"So, you guys don't band together to rewrite history?"

Ramza shook his head. "We band together to stop the hatred and crimes that wreak this land."

"The truth must be heard!" Aster clenched his fists. "The King is cruel!"

"The truth will be heard along the way, Aster. I will enlighten you as well as teach you the ways of a warrior."

"Really! Oh, I will be the best pupil you will ever have!"

Ramza laughed and gave him a pat on the shoulder. "Yes, but rest now, Aster. The sun is about to rise and you need your rest unlike us ghosts. We are moving out at noon."

"At noon? Why?"

"If I tell you will you sleep?"

Aster nodded obediently.

"Well, just a while ago I caught up with Meliadoul and Alicia. We followed the Largonian Angels heading westward. I was worried they were up to something, but then they turned north. I assume, back to headquarters at the castle."

"Who are the Largonian Angels?"

"They are Delita's master spies and warriors. Rarely, they travel in packs unless they were needed for an important mission that requested numbers. I'm sure they were heading back to Riovanes Castle where Mustadio is stationed. But what irks me is why they didn't just go north without making such a wide turn. That is why we must head out west to meet up with my sniper at Sweegy Woods. I want to know what they're up to."

"What if Mustadio doesn't show up with the information we need?"

"We'll station him somewhere else. Some place where Delita's messages may be intercepted, but that we shouldn't worry about just yet. We have to meet up with Mustadio first."

The sun was on the horizon by the time Ramza finished. A ray of sunshine peaked through the tent flap.

"It's getting late." He watched as the light slowly reached out at them. "I won't be able to open and shut the flap, so you will have to do it yourself, Aster."

Aster stared at the golden gap, astonished at how fast time went by. As he watched, a transparent figure flew through the tent flap, leaving the material unruffled. The ghost was Malak, who had been patrolling the eastern parts with his sister.

"Malak? "

"We've returned, Ramza. I don't know if it's bad news, but what we saw might help—"

Meliadoul burst in with Rafa following her. They looked to be in a heated argument for Meliadoul was shouting when she floated in. "That's ridiculous! I saw the Largonian Angels heading north. Ramza was with me!"

"What's going on?" Ramza asked.

"We saw them heading east," Rafa began, "How would we know how many Largonian Angels there are? For all we know, King Delita might still be training more as we waste time here. Okay, so even if they're not Largonian Angels, they could still be Delita's men. As long as their under his control some poor soul or even town is doomed!"

"Enough!" Ramza shouted, "If what Malak and Rafa say is true we must keep moving."

Ramza turned to Aster. "I'm sorry you can't rest now, Aster. We're heading east right away."

_End Chapter5_


	7. Shadow Fight

**Child of the Brave**  
_6. Shadow Fight_

Two men strolled down an abandoned dirt road at the edge of the forest. One, Aster, was muttering incoherently and the other, Ramza, was whistling a light, merry tune.

"Ramza… Ramza… Ramza!"

"Huh?" Ramza looked over at Aster. Aster nodded his head to the side.

"Ah…" Ramza said with a smile. "We're being followed…"

Aster looked into the forest with a frown. "Ummmm… It's just them isn't it?"

"We're being followed," Ramza repeated.

"How do you know?"

"They signal… Twelve o'clock."

"What?" Aster stopped in the middle of the road and turned to his incomprehensible uncle. He was gone. Nothing, but dust and air was in the place of the ghost.

"Just great," Aster mumbled, kicking the dirt in front of him.

There was a rustling in the forest. "Right, leave me out here all by myself," Aster shouted at the trees.

"You! Boy!" Someone shouted gruffly. "What are you doing here?"

A man about a head shorter than Aster came running from the front. "State your business, now!"

Aster blinked stupidly at him. "I'm traveling. Can't a man travel on these roads anymore?"

"Where to?" He raised his spear and pointed it threateningly at Aster.

Aster raised his hands up, "Hey, I didn't do anything. I'm just going to see my sick grandmother. Is that a crime now? Don't tell me there's going to be a road tax, too. I don't have any money with me!"

"You were with someone!"

"I was not!" Aster protested without missing a beat.

The man waved his spear and men wearing armor like him appeared on Aster's rear side. Out of the bushes, more men popped out behind the one that was questioning Aster.

"Come on!" Aster called to the sky as he rolled his eyes at the clouds. "What did I do wrong?"

"Now answer the question, you little liar—I saw you hollering into the woods at a company of sorts—Where are you going?"

"East," Aster sighed as he tried to step back, but the brunt of a spear to his back stopped him. Aster rolled his eyes again.

"To where!"

"My grandmother's hut, in a village near Riovanes… Hmmm…" Aster paused as he realized he let something slip.

"Riovanes is the other way, Boy."

"Oops." Aster's shoulders slumped. At the same time he heard someone sigh in the forest.

Then, just in seconds, there was a rain of arrows. The men attacked aimlessly screaming, "we're under attack!" Aster gripped his knife jauntily and fought back the armed men who surrounded him. Meanwhile bursts of flame erupted around them. It was a great distraction and because of it, Aster got away. He slipped into the forest and ran.

After running half a mile in the partial darkness, he stopped to catch his breath. He slumped against a tree, listening to the blood rushing in his ears.

"Very good, Aster," Ramza laughed from the lowest branch of the tree Aster rested against.

Without looking up Aster muttered, "Where the hoots were you? Just disappearing like that? Do you only care about your own welfare?"

Ramza sat on the branch, swinging his legs under him. He was staring off to a distant. "Quite a racket they're making back there."

"Hey, Ramza!"

Ramza looked down at Aster. "Very good, Aster. Very good."

"Get down here!"

"It's quiet. It's done. Now, we regroup."

"Ramza!"

Ramza hopped lightly off the branch. He was a ghost after all.

"I demand to know why you left and who were those men?"

"I am only of use if I can fight in the dark. Look. The sun is out. Why do you think the others hide in the forest? We fight better when we are hidden. Our weapons will only be effective if we can grip them. In the shadows we can grasp things. And who were those men you ask? Well, they are Delita's fine troops ordered to guard all the roads in Ivalice now. They are not as well trained as the Largonian Angels, but they don't need that kind of training anyway."

"Why has the king ordered them on the roads?"

"Why, isn't it obvious my Nephew? We have accomplished our missions. Delita is suspicious. He wonders who is responsible." Ramza laughed.

"I wish I could laugh with you, but I am still a little irritated with what you did back there. Some hero you are! You left a man behind."

"I never left you behind, Aster. I know you heard me."

"Well…" Aster trailed off.

"Dear Brother, are we ready?" It was Alma who spoke as she came from behind them. She walked with silent footsteps.

"We will be when the others arrive."

"That was quick," Alma exclaimed in surprise as she stared in the direction of where the fight broke. "But, it was quite a distraction. I do believe this puts us slightly off schedule."

"Well, that's because Aster here made a slip up."

"You said I did well!" Aster retorted.

Ramza laughed heartily. "No matter, though! We will slip back onto the main road and be on our way again okay?"

"We are ready, Leader," Malak spoke with a wide smile on his face. He appeared just behind Alma, a silhouette passing trees.

"I'm giving all of you a new title," Aster remarked as he glanced back and forth at the three of them. He was annoyed that every time someone showed up he was unaware of it. "The Phantom Rebels of Ivalice."

_End Chapter 6_

**It's been a looong time! And it's going to be a long time before I can update again. I've hit a brick wall in this part of my life. Yadayadayada.**

**Hey, special special thanks (extra special for emphasis) to my reviewers, Evanlicious and 2sidez-samecoin.**

**I would love to directly address Evanlicious' review. I rarely do this, but for this story I'll make an exception: **

**You have truly been helpful. I am very aware of my lack of physical characteristics of my characters. In some part of the story, though, I think I did hint that Aster showed some semblance to how Ramza looked back in the days before he died. **

**I jumped from Aster being 5 to 16 because there was nothing to write about when he was 5. The only reason why I started at 5 was so that I could kind of introduce the story rather than just throw Aster, a sixteen-year-old, embarking on some adventure out into the open in some random direction. The little scene with the five –year-old was just a lead to the real story. When he was 5 he met Ramza, so that kind of connected to the present, where he meets Ramza again and they're both fighting together now. I'm bad with fight scenes. My attempts are failures… Let me be critical before you! Anyways, thanks for the constructive criticism. If I ever get back to rewriting, I will use your suggestions. Thanks again!**


	8. Mustadio: the Sniper and Spy

**Child of the Brave**  
_7. Mustadio; the Sniper and Spy_

"Hold it."

Aster raised his head slowly. Just an inch away from his face, he stared down the barrel of silver pistol.

"You were careless," The gruff voice told him. The sound of his feet rustling was muffled by the click of him cocking the weapon. "Any last words, Scout?"

Aster stood incredibly still as he watched his life flash by around the shinny, cool rim of the hole. The ticking of his heart quieted…

"Mustadio! Put that down!"

The barrel disappeared and the face of a man replaced it. The man's blonde hair was in disarray and he had a streak of mud on one side of his cheek. His cool, brown eyes settled gently on Aster, a light of understanding glazing over his pupils.

There was a clunk as a hollow branch hit the side of Mustadio's head.

"Ow! Alma, I wasn't actually going to shoot him!"

The oxygen and blood suddenly rushed into Aster's heart. He caught his breath and stared back at Alma.

"You were pointing that thing at my son's head!"

"Well, why was he wandering around my territory in the first place? Not that it's a bad thing, Aster." Mustadio grinned as he shook Aster's clammy hand. "I hope I didn't scare you too much."

Aster felt himself rise up as Mustadio pulled him to his feet.

"Just look at him! He looks just like Ramza!" Alma screeched.

"It is kind of dark. I didn't know it was him and I didn't know all of you got here already," Mustadio soothed.

"If you ever, EVER, point that thing at him again, I'm going to pound you to the ground and you won't ever get up again."

"Alma! I don't need you backing me up all the time. Now, stop screaming," Aster whispered reproachfully. "I'm sure Ramza hears you in the next town."

"Why is Ramza in the next town?" Mustadio asked, his voice rising in anger.

"He's scoping with the others. It seems, the king is on to your workings and has his troops running around Ivalice to track all of you down."

Mustadio grinned. "Ghosts are hard to track. These parameters are safe. I checked myself before I picked it."

"Maybe it was twenty four hours ago, but now it's different."

"And how is that?" Mustadio questioned, stubbornly.

"My home was burned down two nights ago. You should know this Mustadio. You have all the information. The Largonian Angels are on the move."

Mustadio slammed his fist into his palm in frustration. "We are behind, then."

"How far behind?" Aster asked hesitantly.

"Far," Mustadio grunted. He pulled his hair back and swiftly tied it into a straight ponytail. "I'll explain when all of us are together."

Just as Mustadio finished his sentence, he jerkily took out his weapon and spun on his heal to face the darkness behind him.

"Only me: Rafa," said Rafa.

"Blasted," Mustadio cursed, shaking his head like an angry troll.

"I don't blame you, Mustadio. The king's men are everywhere."

"I'm going to hurt someone unintentionally sooner or later and that is unforgivable!" Mustadio hid his pistol again as Rafa walked up to him. Rafa patted his shoulder in a friendly, calming manner.

"We found a place to stay," Rafa spoke, looking over Mustadio's shoulder at Aster. "We need you to book us a room."

"Um, here's your room. It's big, but there's only one bed like you said. I didn't light any lamps either," the Innkeeper's daughter said to Aster. "You're a strange man." She opened the door to him and an eerie creak echoed through the hall.

"Thanks. This will do."

"You want company?" She joked. "Are you going to be fine in the dark?"

"I like the dark."

"I have never heard of anyone being afraid of light," she said, thoughtfully. "You're really something else."

"Um, yeah."

"I think it's cute." She giggled lightly. "Father, thinks you're nuts. I think you're nice."

"Thank you?" Aster said it like a question.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'll leave you alone now."

"Yeah, can you make sure no one disturbs this hall and my door? Not even the housekeepers okay?"

A deep frown etched into her face. "Don't do anything illegal. The king will have your head and my father just might do something about helping the king." Her frown was replaced by a quirky smile. "Please, understand that my father benefits under the king's rule. He'll do anything for the king, even rat on customers."

Aster hesitated when he spoke to this. "Thanks for the warning, but I have no intentions of going against our king."

"Okay, good!" She turned and hurried away. "Sleep well!"

Aster rushed into his room and closed the door gently. Slowly he slipped to the floor and sighed with relief. Remembering he quickly lit the lamps and called out. "You guys can come in now."

The ghosts of the warriors past through the walls and took their places on the chairs, the rugs and the bed. Aster took the floor by the door. "We have to keep our voices down."

"At least you can sleep comfortably when this meeting ends, Aster. It's a nice room."

"Want me to un-light the lamps, though. Just in case?"

"It's alright. They won't hear us. I have your mother on the look out if anything comes."

"She doesn't need to be here for this?" Aster asked.

"She'll be informed later," Aster stated dismissively.

Mustadio was the next to speak. "She already got the gist of it. The Largonian Angels are burning towns housing heretics."

"What? Something must be done!" Aster exclaimed in an angry whisper. "He burned down my town!'

"Aster, keep your head clear. Listen very carefully to me. You're village was burnt down because Delita uncovered something that could ruin him. He discovered that book you're holding."

"If I knew Father Samuel's book would cause all this uproar I would have burned it. It's not worth endangering people!"

"If you did that, he still would have went after everyone you cared about," Ramza spoke, dejectedly.

"If he knew about you, Aster, everyone you care about would be dead now," Mustadio added.

"That must never happen! Ramza and Alma! I don't even know them."

Ramza became devastatingly silent.

Orlandu reproved the young man. "Boy, don't talk like your family has never cared about you. Your uncle and mother have tried so hard to keep you safe these sixteen years of your life. Respect is all I'm waiting to see."

"There's no way I can respect them if I can't even accept them." Aster spat and turned his head to hide his bitter mood.

Orlandu was about to speak again, but Ramza held his hand up to silence him.

"Not to cut into this thing happening now, but… Um… Sorry, this is so awkward. Let's see…" Mustadio started thinking hard and long. "Aster, think about this. You could be a target if Delita ever found out about you. Yet, there are already people out there that the king has started targeting."

"Olan…" Ramza stood up suddenly. "He can't…"

"Right, Olan Durai is Delita's target. Dryfus is the next to suffer from the king's impulsive cruelty."

"More fires in other towns?" Aster asked in a scared whisper.

"He'll burn anything obstructing what he calls a perfect rule," Mustadio stated, turning around to look at him.

"Who is this Olan character?"

Ramza smiled softly. "Olan Durai is a dear friend of mine. He helped us when we were still alive and fighting the church."

"He is also my son," Orlandu added. He puffed up his chest and beat his breast with a tough fist. "If there ever was a boy anybody could raise is that one golden heart kid."

"No longer a kid, but as old as me," Ramza laughed.

"It would be great to see him again," Orlandu sighed. A fond look grew over his age worn features.

"See him soon you will, my old friend. Aster, you, Mustadio, Orlandu, Reis, and Beowulf are catching up with Delita. You're destination is Dryfus."

"Where are you heading?" Mustadio asked.

"I'll be making my way through the towns. Someone has to protect the people, while my nephew does his job."

"What is my job?"

"Recruit. I do believe that it is easier for the living to interact with the living."

**TBC **


	9. Mission Part 1

**Child of the Brave**_  
8. Mission Part 1_

Aster bounded from one passerby to the next. Soon he was knocking on almost every single door of the quiet town.

This was Dryfus. It looked more like a ghost town and Delita's men haven't even been through there with a plow, yet. Aster had a succinct feeling that he was being watched the whole time. It was the strange, inkling feeling that the villagers gave him when they stared at him, yelled at him, and slammed the door in his face.

He could not blame their rudeness on them personally. The King really was to blame for all the dark, grim moods that infested the souls of Dryfus villagers. Not a single human being in Ivalice was actually purely bonny, except for the rich lords always prepped up for their King. Those who were at the King's beck and call had a life one would envy.

Aster was beginning to feel stupid and useless. He kept looking out into the woods as if he knew his teammates, Ramza's teammates, were watching him. They were expecting him to lead them to Olan. Aster kicked the dirt between his feet and glared at his boots.

He looked around again, his eyes scanning the perimeter, until he finally spotted the local bar. That was the place to find anybody or anybody with information he needed. It was just his luck to spot it.

Aster stepped into the pub with a wide triumphant, goofy grin on his face. He took a seat on a stool and waved to the bartender.

"What do you want, kid?"

"I just have a question."

"You're question will have to wait. I got customers." He turned away from Aster, who looked like an idiot with his mouth hanging open.

"Is this kid for real?"

Aster swiveled the other way on his stool at the sound of the hushed voice nearby.

The companion who was with the man who spoke, said, "Yeah, I heard he's looking for Olan Durai."

Aster's jaw dropped and his hand was raised to wave at them, but a tap on his shoulder caused him to cease all movement and speech.

"Looking for Olan?" Two men carrying rapiers in their belts asked him. Aster only stared at their rapiers.

"Is that a…Um… Really a problem?" He gulped.

They tried to grab him, but he ducked away from them. Aster elbowed one guy in the ribs and the other one he kicked in the lower back. They both fell to the floor grunting as Aster dashed for the door.

Freedom! Just as he stepped outside, smiling for beating up two men on his own, who were both bigger and taller than him, he stopped suddenly. Around three dozen men stood in a circle around him, barricading him in the middle.

His arms went up over his head immediately. "Hey, I was only looking for Olan Durai! That is the name Ramza Beoulve gave me." The circle started closing in on him. Angry, mob faces were hovering over him.

"Wait!" A few men were pushed aside and the circle had to break.

A man with graying brown hair emerged from the gap. He wore a brown cloak, held in a gold ribbon. His black eyes were twinkling as he looked at Aster. Fascination seemed to flash sparks in his pupils as he gazed at what seemed to be a similar mold of Ramza Beoulve.

"I am an astrologist and writer, Olan Durai." He swept a bow.

Aster released his breath of relief. "Boy, do you have good timing, Sir. I swear I saw my life flash before my eyes just seconds ago."

"I'm very sorry. These people are only trying to protect me."

"No problem at all." Olan helped him up. The man's face hardened ferociously before Aster could even start introducing himself properly. "Listen, Aster, let us speak behind closed doors just in case."

Aster followed Olan back to his home. He was on his toes the whole time, expecting Delita's spies or worse, the Largonian Angels to show up. He was not ready to take on everyone unequipped as he was. He needed help and that was what he was going leave with.

"What would you like to drink?" Olan asked as they seated themselves at the dinning table. "My wife can get you anything."

A blonde woman, who resembled a slightly older version of Alma hustled out of the kitchen to take his order.

"I think I'm fine," Aster said nervously.

"You sure?"

"Yes," Aster whispered, looking away from them for a minute. "I'm on the move and I have been called to protect you, Olan Durai."

Olan chewed on a bread stick. "You mentioned him…"

"Ramza."

"Ramza's alive?"

"No, but he's around."

Olan got up on his feet. "Where is he?"

"Somewhere. He never said."

"But, he sent you here to protect me? From what? I've lived here in peace ever since he perished... Since my father perished…"

"The King has been on a murderous rampage, burning down villages housing people like you, who know the truth about EVERYTHING."

Olan tore at the bread with his teeth, merriment disappearing without a trace in his black eyes. "You don't expect me to leave these people here and runaway do you? I knew this day would come and sometimes I was hoping it would come sooner just to get it over with."

Aster slammed his fist into the table. "Everyone is coming! Because I need everyone's help! We will fight this together!"

"Boy… What do you mean?"

"My name is Aster. I am the son of Alma Beoulve."

Olan's eyes narrowed. "Who was your father?"

"A man I do not ever wish to know."

Olan got up and moved towards the window. He looked up at the horizon glowing orange. "Poor Alma. Bless her soul."

"Your wife…"

"I met her when I first came to this village. Marie does remind me a bit of Alma, wouldn't you agree?"

"Did you have a thing… With… Alma?"

"My dear boy, absolutely not! It was just a coincidence that I fell in love and married someone so close in Alma's likeness."

"Oh."

"Aster, I need to tell you something. When we start running from the fate that Delita Hyral has given us, we will become criminals."

"So?"

"The Church will charge us for heresy."

"So be it."

Olan circled him. "If you help me, your fate will be sealed, then."

"I'm tired of lies. If none of the other Beoulves before me were afraid of death, then I won't be either."

"The Zodiac Brave Story is in my papers," Olan sighed. "If you protect me, protect my work as well."

Aster smiled grimly. "I now know why Ramza sent me here."

"Is that so?'

"Like you, my Father Samuel is a writer. I carry around his book of the Zodiac Brave Story."

Olan brought his hands up to Aster's shoulders. "Perhaps, I may peruse the good Father's manuscript."

_End Chapter 8_


	10. Mission Part 2: Olan Durai's Vision

**Child of the Brave**  
_9. Mission Part 2: Olan Durai's Vision_

In the middle of the dead and dark night he heard the sound of scampering feet near his tent. A breeze brushed against the flap and that got him up on his feet, blankets twisted around his legs, rooting him to the earth. His bones creaked as he moved like a night stalker out into the opening.

The sentry by the fire was sound asleep. His post lost to a world of bright dreams without King Delita's rule and burning villages to haunt him. He faded into the brisk night, carefree and content not realizing that probably someone had entered camp.

Bones creaking, he turned from the sentry and followed the wind to the edge of camp, digging his feet into the damp soil from the spring rain. Everything was uphill for a while until he reached the top. He closed his eyes.

Galloping horses banging against the marble floors, loud calls to "arm all men," Murmurs of chants invading his consciousness, clattering swords against swords and swords to the floor, and deafening whistles of pistols. Wet, cold sweat clinging in the gaps between his fingers, his armor drenched, heart beating against his breast, and his horse failing beneath him. He looked up and there he was, Delita, his hair in disarray and his sword at his feet. Delita looked back at him with his lips moving to the shape of a name… The vision died, and Olan was thrown back to reality.

He spun on his heels and saw a shadow of a man on a chocobo. His cloak fluttered in the wind. Olan squinted, but still could not quite make out the face of the man. Only the gleam and spin of gold hair suggested that he was the hero…

"Olan!"

Olan spun the other way and saw a young man returning from his mission. He also had the gleam and spin of gold hair, except his lacked the ghostly and web-like white. He was real and tangible, wearing a gallant smile that beamed 'mission accomplished.' To boot his accomplishment, he had his two companions to show off, one male and one female. One on his right arm and the other on his left arm. They were his sword and his shield.

"Star gazing? Let's get back to camp and show Eliza and Joseph around," Aster said.

Aster jauntily led the way.

Trailing them, Olan thought about the vision and how telling Aster would bring hope to the boy.

But it would be a year before they had enough people to face their nemesis. The nemesis that would soon meet defeat.

_End Chapter 9_

_A.N. 2 more chapters to go and maybe an epilogue. Finally, I think I know how to end this without dragging it too much. Stay tuned!_


	11. Mission Part 3: The Master Plan

_10. Mission Part 3: The Master Plan_

"Friends, I come here to ask you to gather arms and join me…" said the man wearing a heavy hooded cloak. His arms reached out to embrace his audience as the next words spewed from his mouth. "It's time we face the facts that our time here has only begun. How many more villages are we going to stand by and watch the king destroy? How many more times are we going to stand at our doorsteps and watch the Largonian Angels slaughter our mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, lovers, and friends?"

The crowd roared their common hatred toward the monarchy and its followers, throwing up daisies to the man on the stage.

A couple of people, who were personally close to the speaker, shuffled their feet. They could not keep still because of the excitement that their leader was raising. Some of the daisies thrown on the stage bounced off of them.

"It is time we show them what we're made of." He jumped off the stage. The crowd cleared a path for him to walk on. His followers were right behind him.

"Keep this up, Aster and you can be the next king," Olan whispered beside him.

Aster pulled his hood down and grinned, "You of all people should know, Olan, that I am not interested in that position."

Olan pulled his head back. "Then, this land will be a mess again."

"Power is something that turns us into demons. That's what Alma and Ramza taught me when I was traveling with them."

"So, we're better off without a king and without a church."

"I never said that."

"Whatever you decide, Joseph and I will be right here next to you," Eliza firmly announced as she wrapped her hand around Aster's elbow.

Aster looked down at her. "I don't think Joseph is willing to stay with me all the time. He has a wife, now."

Joseph whacked his best friend in the back. "I'm married; yes. However, Jenna and I wish to follow you onward."

Dred and Dale, the twin brothers, who had followed their teacher, Olan, all their lives, also announced their loyalty to Aster. The boy smiled at them and thanked them.

* * *

"No more deaths, no more fighting… I do believe he's sounding more like a…" Agrias paused in mid-sentence as she pushed her hair back with a fist.

"Beoulve," Orlandu completed for her.

Agrias closed her eyes gently. "That's it." She opened her eyes again and looked below her. Just a branch down from her branch she could see her older comrade return her smile.

"The question is, can we trust this kid not to lose his head in the midst of all this," Tensberger contemplated out loud in the tree next to theirs. The branch he stood on creaked under his weight.

"Jealous you won't make it into the history books once again, hey Tens? OW!" Mustadio rubbed the back of his neck where Tensberger hurled the pebble at him.

"Now, now, I think we have more important matters to deal with," Beowulf spoke, letting his soft voice carry through the shadows of the trees. His beloved Reis held his hand as they occupied their own tree.

Malak, who sat on the lowest branch below them with his feet dangling, leaned forward to spy his sister in the tree in front of him. "It certainly feels good to be of real use again, right Rafa?"

"What are you talking about? What's so great about being fighting machines again?!"

"We don't fight for them anymore," Meliadoul answered.

"You must mean the bad guys," said Lavian.

"The Church, right?" Alicia sighed. "That was such a long time ago. Even, then, we really weren't sure whose side we were on."

Ramza and Alma emerged from the trees. They walked silently as their feet only brushed pass the soil. Alma spoke with an old wisdom in her posture and tone, "We don't fight for anyone, but ourselves. We gave up our lives to live this moment and day."

Ramza looked at her with a sympathetic expression. "Why the glum look? Everything's taken care of."

"Leave it to Aster, right?" Tensberger asked with a roll of his eyes.

"Got a problem?" The chief's eyes flashed as he gazed up at Tensberger. "We're going to need to pour all our trust in him from now on since none of us are alive to do much. We've taught him well enough."

"When will it be our turn?" Tensberger asked impatiently.

"Our time has past, My Friend."

* * *

The map was spread against the stub of an old tree. Colorful chips sprayed across the lines and splotches meticulously marking covered areas and territories.

Aster shifted the pieces around the board as the others stood around him to watch.

"Joseph, you're taking out the tower guards on the east side and bringing your men up. Once you're through, secure the east grounds."

"Aye, aye," Joseph shouted, saluting Aster with a playful smirk on his face.

"I'll have Jesse hold back the guards on the ground. Can you cover them, Jess?"

"Not a problem, Sir!"

"Eliza?"

"Hm?"

"You're going a bit further north from Riovanes with a good handful of men on your side. There is something important you must do."

"What is that? Why do I have to be away from all the fighting?"

Aster traced the west side of the castle, where blue waves bordered. "There is a small reservoir that runs around here. I need you to cut off their water supply, so that The Twins can cross onto the east without soaking their heavy armor and ammunition. Blow up the mountain pass with some of our explosives in the armory. Cut off the flow of water to the castle. They won't have water to put out the fires that way, either. Be careful." Aster added the last phrase, quietly.

"Yes, Sir!"

"Olan, you will take the bridge. Fight your way through the front ranks. By the time you reach the castle, either the men from the east will draw down the bridge or the men on the west will draw it down. It will depend on how fast, Eliza, Joseph, and The Twins work.

I did plan on carrying my men through the back, but I hand that off to one of the captains."

"Wait then, what will you be doing?" They all asked at once.

"I will be in the castle already. The King is mine."

"What?!"

"I have a plan to disguise myself as a worker. I've already had the job for a couple of days, now. How else do you think I got this map and the inner workings of the castle memorized? I even know how many steps are needed from the main hall to the throne room!"

His people looked at him wide-eyed. He had planned everything without consulting them. He did not seem like the helpless, ignorant boy they once knew. The months of commanding and encouraging had deepened his skills as a leader and a knight.

"What? I'm almost seventeen. I'm not entitled.

Olan cleared his throat. "Your plan is almost impeccable, but you should have asked us for our opinions before planning ahead."

"Olan, I didn't want to bother you too much. You are the man responsible for rounding up these people. If it weren't for you I'd be fighting the king by myself. Besides, you know who I consult with outside this group," Aster whispered to the older man.

Olan nodded stiffly. "I see."

"Okay, then." Aster slapped his heart. "Tonight, I'll be within the castle covering my shift."

Aster bent forward and drew his clean knife out of his boot. Slamming the blade dead center into the castle and thus the wood of the stub he declared, "By dawn the water will stop running. Everyone must time everything accordingly."

* * *

"Did you hear him? He sounded so grown up," Alma sighed.

"He _is_ grown up, Sister."

"But, Brother, he's still so young."

"It's going to be alright. You watch. He will be the first to live up to his name."

Alma tried to laugh, but it still sounded forced. "That's right. You weren't an old man in your days, either."

_End Chapter 10_


	12. The Invasion

_11. The Invasion_

"King Delita! Majesty, the rebels have broken through the gates! Your Largonian Angels have been captured. What are our options, now?" The general was frantic and awaiting orders from the King.

The regal man, who was as still as a statue in his throne, calmly looked right through the general, directing his dark and cold eyes to the double doors of his chamber and last stronghold. As the castle around him fell and the roars of the rebels were ripping through every corridor, but his, he sat in his golden armor with his mighty sword in his lap. There was not much left to lose. The smell of blood and death hung in the air and the phantom of his own demise lingered. What were his options? The kingdom that he established used to stretch for miles, but now it was confined in this very room, where the only citizens left were him and his general.

"Delita!"

Finally, Delita's gaze focused on the general, who now stood a foot from him, bent over and eyes ablaze. The solitude the general found in Delita's dark eyes dispersed the last of his hopes. The great king's soul was gone. He wasn't there anymore. King Delita was never the humanitarian to his people, followers and family. That fact alone was coming around in full circle. It was too late to take back every mistake he had made and he knew it. The general could not figure out what was wrong with Delita, though. Just shaking his head, the general stepped away from a man that used to look like a king. Then swiftly, but silently, he left the throne room and surrendered to the rebels.

Not long after his general left him, Delita heard the banging of the doors. At the sound Delita stood and shoved his crown on his silver head. He glared at the doors, eyebrows drawn and sword at the ready. He would fight until he had to draw his final breath because he had already lived this long. There was no way he was going to give up his life this quickly when he had worked so long to perfect it. He had to cut down many men and women to get here and to lose it all was the last thing that was going to happen to him.

The doors were thrown open and there… Stood the silhouette of one lone man. The glimmer of his golden mane caught his attention. Delita released a shallow gasp and whispered the name that was long forgotten.

"It's Aster," the young man said advancing forward with his sword drawn. The metallic metal reflected the frightened face of the king.

"Aster?" He whispered, bewilderment drawn out in his creased face. "Well, I'll be! I've made a mistake." He ran a distressed hand over his face. "Speak your name, Boy!"

Aster grinned his answer. "Aster Beoulve."

Delita's chagrined smile dissipated at the same time the doors of his chamber slammed shut. The torches were dampened by an unknown force. The force brought into the chamber a stale smell of death and a chilling gust that rattled the bones of the king. Delita unintentionally shivered even as Aster's voice boomed in the room as if magnified by a dome-like auditorium.

"Son of Alma Beoulve… I don't know the story well, but I believe you betrayed my mother and banished my uncle and his brave warriors."

Delita quivered. In the dim lights he noticed that the last child of the Beoulve family and the last child of the brave stood in front of him. He resembled so much the old friend he deceived for glory and power.

Knowing exactly what was running through his head, Aster merely murmured the last phrase. "Ramza Beoulve will never die."

At this last quote, Delita looked up from where he fell back on the cold floor, to face the Beoulve that loomed over him. Meanwhile, the flickers of the ghosts of Alma and Ramza appeared a few feet behind Aster. Lastly, their friends appeared, all of them had last been seen fighting Altima. Seemingly, Aster stepped back so that his family, he had learned to love over the months, took his spot in front of Delita.

"Your days of tyranny are done," Ramza spoke as he crossed his arms in front of him. "Before it ends, though… I do wish to know what happened to Princess Ovelia."

Tensberger in the back sneered. "It's quite obvious he's disposed of her."

When Delita did not answer, Ramza bent down, so that he was at eye level. "Is it true, then?"

"She was against everything I did for her… I did for us!" The old king bellowed this accusation. Ramza knew that Delita was hanging on to his last thread of sanity by the raging, vengeful look that obscured his dark, ominous eyes.

"Her contrary beliefs do not justify your actions. Goodbye my friend." Ramza reached into his boot and the poor king howled with grief.

Just as King Delita sprawled to the floor in a pitiful puddle, the doors again slammed open, this time forced open by Olan Durai and many more followers, dispersing the spirits in the room. The rebels all spilled into the room hearing the King of Ivalice shrieking in hysteria. Olan watched as Aster bent over Delita, who kneeled like an impaled man next to his sword. Olan could barely make out the shape of the word from Delita's mouth, but he knew it was the same as the vision he had months ago. Delita had said "Ramza."

Aster gravely shook his head. He commanded that everyone was not to harm Delita and gave the order to Joseph to take the king some place safe. Aster turned to Olan and made his way toward the man, then.

"Olan?" Aster was twitchy and instantly Olan noticed how tired the young man looked. "They're gone, you know? They told me they would have to go when they have finally confronted their past."

Understanding dawned on the older man. "I believe that has been what bound them to Ivalice; the past haunted them, so they could not find proper rest until now."

"But," Aster croaked, "I didn't get the chance to say goodbye."

Olan sighed as he placed his hand over the young man's shoulder. "The living and the dead do not exist together. You are where you're supposed to be; they are where they are meant to be. However," at this, Olan pressed his hand to Aster's breast plate, "there spirit lives in here. You know that because you have taken his name and made it yours."

"It's not over. Is it?" Aster's question was quiet.

Olan gave him a peeved smile. "I'm afraid not. We have a history to write. Delita was only the puppet in this, but now that his strings have been cut, the puppeteer has gotten away; the puppeteer being The Church. This cannot go on any longer."

"Then, we shall keep fighting."

Olan pressed the boy gently, "We shall, but Young Beoulve I have one last query before we move on…"

"What would that be, My Friend?"

"What was the last thing that Ramza Beoulve said to you?"

"Before you stormed in I managed to squeeze in a thank you when he turned to smile at me. Then, I heard him say, 'I'm not fighting for thanks. I'm fighting for honor and pride as a Beoulve.'"

"What do you fight for, Aster?"

Aster thumped a fist to his heart. "I fight for the same thing. My grandfather saved people from invasion. My uncle saved all of Ivalice. A deed from each generation surmounted the previous deed. I plan to extend that line and carry on the Beoulve legacy."

"Very good answer."

With the end of the siege, Olan Durai and Aster Beoulve went their separate ways. Several months would pass before the two would meet one last time.

* * *

_The next installment will be the final chapter and epilogue. I'm going to just cut to the chase and make it bittersweet. Bittersweet!_ _No more lagging and drawing out of a plot that's already been worn down, right? I'll try to make this last chapter more graphic (I mean more imagery) and less dialoguing, which I think, has been the main problem with the story. It's really hard to write something without making the characters talk too much, but I'm going to give it a whirl. Be patient and review._

_BTW: The last line that Ramza said to Aster was a line I took from the video game. It's been way too long since I've played this game and I just started it again on the PSP, but there is no way I can pinpoint that line when I just only started the first mission and ended up putting the game down again. Nevertheless that line like a lot of themes, names, and characters I've used throughout, "I'm not fighting for thanks. I'm fighting for honor and pride as a Beoulve" came directly from the game. If you're not too lazy like me, maybe YOU can find the line and tell me what part it's from. It could be a little contest, perhaps, where winner gets the pride in knowing (s)he really knows the game._


	13. Epilogue: Final Encounter

**Child of the Brave**

_12. Epilogue: Final Encounter_

The man was dead, yet his spirit lived on. Maybe that was what it means to be immortal; immortalized by the stuff that could be found in history books. Stuff such as, courage, self sacrifice, honor, and justice. Olan Durai dug a bare toe in the soft soil and tossed a single white rose on top of the headstone. It noiselessly splashed and hit the marble surface. The rose slowly slid across the emblazoned name, "Beoulve". It leisurely touched the earth where it belonged, its petals untarnished by the mud. The flower was a symbol of peace and life.

Olan squatted beside the side of the stone. Brushing a cold hank of hair from his relaxed brow, he let out a breath to the humming wind. The whisper of rain water splashing through the trees and hitting the soaked floor echoed. His enemies were coming for him and the others. They would not think to find _them_ here, though. Olan did not expect those cowards to thump their feet and touch their hands on the land that belonged to legend.

Olan clenched his teeth, biting back a cry. Here he was again after leaving behind his wife and two children. Here he was chasing the past, so that he could set the foundation for a future in the next generation. There was no turning back.

_You put your books before everything else in life and you believe that anything else you do would be a fool's way._

The chestnut eyes of his wife floated in his memory. They were filled with love. Forever a memory.

_You've eyes of a seer and a spirit of fire. Your spirit would go out if you do not put it to your own use._

It had been a long time since Riovanes; a long time since he had made his choice of path in the forked road. How hard was it for him to give up his life for his beliefs? His stomach twisted in a knot of pain. It was hard.

A clack reverberated in the rhythmic beat of the rain. Olan turned from his place to look behind him at the tall hooded man, who had disturbed the broken branches with his feet. He raised a hand in greeting as he threw off his hood.

Olan smiled for the first time in a long time as he recognized the blonde. He did not notice how the rain was suddenly subsiding. A cool breeze was left behind to rustle his hair and the hair of the man now standing just three steps behind him. The visitor squeezed the rain-drenched cover of his sleeve.

"It's been a while, Old Friend," he said, throwing a few violets and irises beside the single rose.

The moment seemed to call for something more than that kind of a greeting, so Olan stood. He abruptly threw his arms around the man, a fatherly gesture half remembered and blurry from disuse. To the recipient, it was completely brand new and unexpected.

Of course. Here was a man, a prime example of hero material who gave up a childhood to find the truth. Did he know it all, yet? Not even close. He had to give up much, too, just to handle the scrap of truth in the world that was dealt to him. Did it hurt him? Most likely, but who's to say that he hasn't learned from pain as well? To know the existence of savagery and corruption was only the beginnings of a larger lesson plan; a lesson plan that wasn't simply taught in one lifetime.

Rough, mud-encrusted fingers touched Olan's shoulders to pull him back at an arm's length. For a moment the younger man stared at him with a look that studied.

As if he knew what the older man was thinking he spoke, "there are not as many scholars as fighters."

Olan chuckled. "There are not many fighters who can wield their choice of weapon well."

"And yours—I mean your weapon—is the pen. Who can wield that better than you?" he flippantly retorted.

Olan turned his head and shrugged in surrender. Papers were suddenly pushed into his hands. Olan looked down, surprised. "These are…"

"What were left of Father Samuel's book… The Church got there before me, but I salvaged most of the pages."

"Father Samuel?"

"Past on long before The Church figured it out. Natural cause."

"I'm sorry, Aster."

"Hey, don't be. He had a long, full life; one worth dying for. He certainly wasn't sorry for how he lived it, so why should you be?"

The young man stroked the smooth head of the grave. Olan jerked his head up and watched him. Every time he looked at him, Olan would recollect the man he met nearly eighteen years ago. Same golden eyes, same golden tan, and the same brightly colored eyes.

Aster broke from the grave and from him, bounding up the stony pathway. He was standing at the very top when he looked down at him again. He shouted, "Olan, never forget that you yield that gift of bringing immortality!"

The sun, riding just on the edge of the cliff furnished Aster Beoulve with a golden glow. A white eagle soared over his head, buffeting both of them in the ghost of freedom soon to pass.

_Yesterday was history and tomorrow will be history unwritten. Betwixt these days, is today and what you'll make of this day._

THE END


End file.
